


What Is

by buckybahrns (hop_in_my_moricarty)



Series: Ficlets Just A Bit Too Long For Tumblr [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: John's POV, M/M, Unrequited Daddycest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:25:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2677244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hop_in_my_moricarty/pseuds/buckybahrns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could do anything he wanted to his two beautiful boys. But he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is

His baby boy is honey sweet and smooth, California gold skin rolling on for miles and miles. Baby soft lips, pouting and pretty pink, delicate little things he'd love to bite red raw and leave shining. His eyes are so innocent, so pure, he almost feels bad for wanting to dirty them up. Shaggy brown hair falls into those pretty eyes, and he wants to brush it gently off his baby's face and coo softly to comfort him. But he doesn't.

His other boy is harder, years of training and fighting shaping his body into square shoulders and hard muscle. But his eyes are sparkling jewels set within girlish features, feathery blond eyelashes fanning out onto sharply feminine cheekbones. Sprinkled between green eyes clear as water are little freckles from a life in the sun, dusted across his nose and cheeks. What he wouldn't give to kiss each and every one of them tenderly. But he doesn't.

They're grown now, not boys anymore, but men. They tell him in the way they hold themselves, the way they go days without shaving and end up harsh stubble and scruff that they itch at idly during research. His older one winks at pretty waitresses when he order, but his baby is shy still, plays at innocence with long bangs and flashes of dimples. He knows that they think they're on their own, that they think their too big to let their daddy take care of them, but he knows better.

He knows every inch of their skin like his knows his own name, knows that when is baby is sad he bottles it up and keeps quiet to let it kill him slow from the inside out. He knows that his older boy turns his own sadness into rage and lust and a burning thirst for something that'll make him forget for a little while. He knows that he has to keep his older one away from bars and liquor stores, keep his baby away from himself by dropping him at the nearest library to lose himself in pages and the smell of old books.

This he knows because he's raised them, watched them shed baby fat to make way for skinny arms and knobby knees, watched those bird bodies get strong and thick with muscle. His boys were delicate, but they were never helpless, he made sure of that. Made sure that his two beautiful boys were safe as he could make them, even from their own daddy, made sure they were ready for whatever came after them, and he damn well made sure they knew just how much he loved them.

Maybe he didn't say it as much as he would have liked, but he never once hurt those boys, never once corrupted that sweet innocence in his babies' smiles. When they got older, it got harder; the life they lived wasn't an easy or happy one, but he tried his damnedest to keep them from drowning in the bottom of bottle after bottle every night like some men he knew.

John Winchester never claimed that he was a wise man, not a smart one either, but at least he could keep a few things off his list. Incestuous, statutory rapist, child molester. He loved his baby boys, and they loved him, but never as fully as he wanted. But if it kept them happy, then that was damn fine by him.


End file.
